


eighteen

by anacree



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anacree/pseuds/anacree
Summary: amélie and angela are seniors in high school and have been best friends for two years, they are approaching their final summer together before separating to pursue their careers as professional ballet dancer and doctor.





	1. daydreamer

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't posted a lick of writing since i was in my mid-teens, meaning around a decade ago, please be kind! this isn't beta'd in any form, i have vague plans for more chapters and will adjust warnings accordingly if need be. thanks for reading! twitter: @antoinetties / tumblr @lelianasing

Amélie Guillard looked like the type of girl who would be at the top of the food chain when it came to high school politics. She was tall with gorgeous long black hair that was straight as a board, a tiny nose, and a voice like spilling hot caramel. Her family was rich, she maintained a 3.7 grade average in order to participate in her private dancing lessons, which she excelled at and had been since age four. Despite all of these good marks, she was almost too beautiful to befriend and her resting bitch face was easily intimidating. She had only maintained one best friend over the last two years, Angela Ziegler.

  
Angela moved from Switzerland to Annecy, France to attend private school classes for college credit in her final years of high school. She arrived to Annecy as a sophomore with the single purpose to get in and get out in order to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor. Amélie and Angela shared a similar attitude about high school, it was temporary and a means to something better. This wasn’t primary school where a cafeteria seat neighbor shared an apple slice and suddenly school was your social hub alongside learning shapes. An apple slice hadn’t been involved, but the two girls crossed paths in an advanced placement literature class and became inseparable.

  
Now they were both seniors with very different career paths ahead of them, but their friendship was still as strong as ever. Angela would split off for her college course and Amélie had dance practice and ballet recitals. However, they always had common ground in their year four AP literature class, and Amélie’s family chateau where Angela had happily spent two summers at in the years previous. The warmer weather was approaching them again, and the bittersweet reality of it being their last summer together loomed over them both.

  
The topic came up on the weekend before Amélie’s next dance recital, the girls tried to spend their free weekends together between books and ballet. Angela sat cross-legged on her best friend’s bedroom floor, leaning back against the heavy four post bed. Amélie’s bed was as big as Angela’s own room in her aunt’s home where she had stayed since coming to Annecy for school. It gave her a taste of independence, she was allowed to come and go as she pleased if her grades stayed immaculate. While studying was tedious at times, it all came easy to Angela.

  
“I have a test on Saturday morning, but I will be there for your number at the recital,” the blonde vowed as she turned a page in her medical technology textbook.

  
“Your test is next Saturday, so put the book away. For one night at least, Angela,” Amélie’s voice came out exasperated as she lounged sideways across her bed with her phone in her hand. Angela just smirked down at her book, Amélie was one of the only people who didn’t call her Ang or Angie, her full name sounded so important coming from her.

  
“Only if you stop shopping for shoes and showing me a different pair every ten seconds. Most of the time they look exactly like a pair you already own.”

  
“I have offered more than once to buy you a nice pair of shoes,” she reminded quickly.

  
“It isn’t your money, Amélie,” Angela tipped her head back against the bed to look up at her, they’ve had this argument more than once.

  
“We have more than we know what to do with, and if you aren’t careful- I will not buy you a thing when I make thousands from being a professional dancer.”

  
“I don’t think I’ll be wearing heels in surgery.”

  
“You will when you are nominated for being a teenage prodigy in the medical field,” Amélie tossed her phone aside and laid her head against her arm, her silky black hair spilled over the edge of the bed. Angela could smell Amélie’s strawberry flavored shampoo, she knew it well- she had secretly used it more than once while taking a shower there. The scent was a comfort to her.

  
“Sometimes you dream big dreams for the both of us.”

  
“I could dream all day,” Amélie closed her eyes and relaxed. Angela thought it must be strange to be someone in the lap of luxury and look so bored most days, but it was part of Amélie’s charm.

  
“How are your grades not suffering when you dance and daydream so much?” She teased as she brought her focus back to her chapter on radiology- she was determined to finish it now so that they could spend the rest of their weekend together uninterrupted.

  
“I do not quite have to play gray’s anatomy like you do.”

  
“How lucky for you,” Angela retorted in her best sarcastic voice, they picked at each other’s differences so often, but had fun with it.

  
“Besides,” Amélie’s voice dipped to a purr to the left of Angela. “Someone has to give you a show for all your hard work.”

  
The statement was innocent, but loaded at best. Angela swallowed thickly and turned another page as silence fell between them for several moments. It wasn’t until a slow breathing came from Amélie that she realized she was drifting off- so what she said must have just been a side effect of delirium. Or maybe, Angela’s process of the words came from her own delirium due to all the studying.

  
Twenty minutes passed as she finished her long winded chapter and Amélie was most definitely asleep. Angela closed her book, and Amélie turned in her sleep towards her and strands of her long hair brushed across her arm. Angela had to repress the goosebumps from the tickle of the sensation as best she could, itching at her upper arm absentmindedly. She didn’t want to wake her friend. Truthfully, a Friday night watching her sleep wasn’t a thorn in her weekend at all. For the moment, her studying was caught up, they had Saturday and Sunday ahead of them, and the calmness of Amélie’s breathing behind her could almost lull her to sleep as well.

  
It didn’t feel like a waste. Soon, Angela could be headed back to Switzerland for her proper university classes. It was a toss up, she had applied to many and was awaiting their responses at any time. The thought of not having Amélie’s stark contrast of a life against her own made her future empty in the prospect of friendship. Her desire to become a doctor was a dream that would go unchanged, Amélie would not alter that course. However, the journey brightened with her presence and now Angela was afraid of that light burning out.

  
Angela got lost in her thoughts until a soft hum came from the other girl as she rolled back over brought her back to reality. Amélie raised a hand to press over her eyes. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”

  
“You’ll need as much as you can get this week,” Angela answered softly, feeling a little protective over the strenuous practice Amélie had been going through lately.

  
“Is that your official prescription?”

  
“Yes, Miss Guillard.”

  
Amélie laughed, it was soft and sweet. Angela felt her heart ache.

  
“Let’s get something to eat,” she sat up on her elbows and slid off her bed, stepping into a pair of white luxurious slippers. “Did you finish your reading?”

  
“Yes, I’m all yours now this weekend, studying resumes promptly at eight on Monday morning.”

  
“As it should,” Amélie bent down and plucked the heavy textbook from Angela’s lap and went to hide it in the very top of her walk-in closet amongst designer bags from last season. The closet was more like an entire separate room in size. “We must have you succeed, but with success comes relaxation of the brain,” she explained, applying her best impression of Angela.

  
“If I relax my brain, then you must relax your body,” She quipped.

  
“This,” Amélie motioned down her body and toward her legs. “Comes at a physical price of regular activity. I thought you would know that, doctor.”

  
“Oh, you mean to say you weren’t born with legs that could qualify for their own insurance policy?”

  
“Talent is practice,” the dancer shrugged, the compliment’s true intention flying past her as she headed towards the door to make their walk to the kitchen. Angela followed with a shake of her head, noting that Amélie’s hair was ruffled from her short nap. At school and recitals, she walked around without a hair out of place. At home, Amélie was in her element. She wasn’t the type to be uncomfortable with her wealth, she owned it in the best way, by being herself when she was behind the heavy double doors.

  
The kitchen resided on the first floor and a walk through the elaborate dining room that Angela had only seen used during holidays and summer when entertaining was a staple at Chateau Guillard. The smell drifted from an hours ago cooked meal.

  
It was eight in the evening, the cook had prepared something and gone home, storing dinner for anyone in the family having it late. Amélie took the care of removing two plates from the refrigerator and setting the oven accordingly to warm it up. She would be the first to admit she was spoiled and that staff was paid to do their job, but she wasn’t so proud as to not know how to work simple appliances when staff had gone home.

Kids in high school assumed a lot about a person without ever speaking a word, and that’s what they were- kids. Other than viewing Amélie as a stuck up brat, nobody knew much about her. They were kids, neither of them held friendships or interest with much of anyone else. Angela had just turned eighteen, and Amélie would be before summer was over. Graduation itself was a month and a half away.

  
“Do we have any plans this summer?” Angela asked, as if her secondary talent was reading minds.

  
“If by we, you mean me, oui,” Amélie turned her head and smiled at her blonde friend over her shoulder. “And if I have plans, then you have plans. There is a dance company- Ballet Jörgen in Ontario, Canada, that I want to try out for and I was going to turn it into a little trip abroad. Will you come?”

  
“What about your family?”

  
Amélie waved her hand absentmindedly after she placed their dinner in the oven. “I told them I want to go on my own, we decided it would be my graduation present.”

  
Angela pretended to mull it over for the drama, but then she smiled. “I would love to go with you, Amélie.”

  
“As if you had a choice.”

  
With a quiet laugh, Angela averted her eyes to her hands resting on the island counter as Amélie placed their dinner plates at respective seats. They never ate at the table unless there was a party, there was no telling how many late nights they had sat together at the island on the most ornate bar stools Angela had ever seen eating pizza. Dinner was a little more gourmet this time, garlic and parmesan spaghetti, and Amélie was reaching for wine glasses.

  
She didn’t protest a bit when her dark haired friend poured her a glass, Angela wasn’t a prude, even if her peers perceived her that way. Amélie remained a mystery to them all, only she had managed to crack open the door to what really hid beneath those dark eyes of the french girl.

Not to mention, Amélie had her share of Angela’s secrets tucked into her pocket, as well.


	2. nightdrinker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all of the support on chapter one! it really inspired me to continue this story, so i'm hoping you enjoy this next little piece of it i have to offer you! you can find me on twitter @antoinetties and tumblr @lelianasing !

They sat in a comfortable silence and sipped wine as their dinner finished being nuked in the oven. When it came to alcohol, Amélie had a much higher tolerance than Angela. Two or three glasses of wine would turn Angela into a party, while the same amount merely gave Amélie a buzz. 

When the timer dinged, Angela rose from her stool and opened the oven, bringing the wave of parmesan and garlic into the kitchen air. It made her realize how hungry she was. Swinging around, she placed the dish onto the island behind her and found a nearby spoon to serve both of their plates.

“What did I do to deserve such service?” Amélie asked with her heavy lashes batting at the blonde across the counter.

“Something like that, I suppose,” Angela answered truthfully after the display of Amélie’s thick lashes over her dark eyes. She grabbed the wine bottle to pour herself another glass of liquid courage. 

“Like this?” Amélie rested her chin across her hand and all of her long, jet black hair fell across her shoulders like a curtain. Angela could hardly pretend when she was drinking wine an on empty stomach, her best friend got to her- in more ways than one.

“Do not torture me, Miss Guillard,” she answered in a light tone and a laugh, trying to keep her reaction under wraps. 

“As if I am your type,” Amélie rolled her eyes and reached for a fork, twisting pasta around. Angela came back around to her stool and sat down, suddenly too sick with butterflies to find a proper answer to that without giving her entire thought process away.

“I have a type?” She finally asked instead. She pulled the parmesan covered spaghetti noodles into her mouth in order to make herself from saying anything else completely stupid.

“Tall. . . intelligent, intimidating. . .” Amélie mused, and while Angela knew where she was going with this, she wanted to interject and say that Amélie was certainly all those descriptors and more. “You never talk about her.”

“I have nothing to talk about.”

“It’s a scandal, Angela. You are one of my only friends, and this is the only gossip you have to offer me.” 

“The subject of the gossip was a mistake,” Angela cleared her throat and washed down the discomfort with a long gulp of the red wine. 

“If anyone were to get into trouble for it, it would be her. . . so what are you so concerned about?” Amélie reached over to place her hand at Angela’s wrist. It made Angela want to both jerk her hand away and embrace Amélie’s own all at once. 

“It’s just. . . I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about me.”

“The only ones who know are me, you, and-”

“Please, drop it, Amélie.”

Amélie’s hand slipped away from the warmth of Angela’s wrist and they both went back to their dinner in another silence. They rarely had disagreements, but the subject of Angela’s little secret had been the source of more than one so far. The combined stress of their last summer together and this rift in the road of Angela’s made their emotions tense. 

It was only Friday night with their entire weekend ahead together, and Angela felt guilty for causing a spat between them. She should have never told Amélie about what happened three weeks ago on one of the first warm days after school, when the lab was hot and she could hardly breathe with her shirt buttoned up to her neck. . . Angela shook her head to erase the memory and finished off her wine, reaching for the bottle once more. 

Normally, Amélie would tease her about her intake, but nothing was said. Angela knew this game. No words would be exchanged until she budged. Amélie knew she was irreplaceable, any fight with her resulted in apologizing to her. It didn’t matter who caused the row, what it was about, or how long it had been going on. Amélie may have been a dark haired angel once you knew her, but she owned the capability to ice someone out in a heartbeat. 

“Let’s not fight, please?” Angela asked, turning towards her friend and offering her the wine bottle first.

“I’m not fighting,” she took the wine and gave Angela her share before pouring her own. That was another thing, no matter what- Amélie was in charge. “Are we really going to finish off this bottle?”

“And open another one, I hope.”

“And you say you are going to be a doctor,” Amélie laughed. “Are you also going to tell me that smoking is good for asthma just like the old days?”

“Well, let’s just say that I am not a stranger to cigarettes.”

“What a bad girl, you really are taking on traits of the French.” She split the remaining drops of wine between the two of them. 

“Would that disappoint you?” Angela asked curiously, trying to reroute their conversation to types- Amélie was so hard to read. Boys and girls alike threw themselves at the dancer when she wasn’t too  
busy being feared for her intimidating looks. 

“I do like bad girls,” Amélie smirked as she slid off her bar stool to throw the empty wine bottle into the trash.

“That makes two of us.”

“What a shame that I’m not one.”

Angela considered backing down again and letting the flirtation fizzle out, but considering the recent events- she was feeling like a daredevil. The opportunity to take a risk may not come in medical school, she was going to be so focused. In a way, this summer might be her last taste of spontaneity. It would be the only time to truly feel eighteen. 

“I beg to differ. . .” The blonde trailed off, keeping her voice sure and calm. “You are a bit of a brat, after all. . .” 

Amélie turned her head with a look of offense, noting that sudden smirk across her friend’s mouth. “A brat? You are the one who asked me what we are doing for the summer, waiting for your invitation to a vacation.”

“As if your family would let Amélie Guillard- the heir to all this wealth- go off to Canada by herself! You need a babysitter. We all know that one of your little assistants will be joining us on the private jet,” Angela made sure to emphasize the mass of her best friend’s wealth, she only did it to tease- or was it to provoke? 

“Keep talking like that, Angela, and you might just receive what you seek.” 

Angela felt her stomach flip and she clenched one thigh over the other, it was as if Amélie could read her mind. There was no way she was being that obvious, no way that she could pick out those little fantasies Angela kept buried way back in her mind when she was alone. Even then, remembering them and the fact that they were alone in the big and airy chateau was very sobering.

However, Amélie offered nothing else to tease her with. They finished their dinner, Angela volunteerd to wash the dishes to work out a few of her frustrations while Amélie covered the remaining pasta to return to the refrigerator. She also took the liberty of grabbing their wine glasses and another unopened bottle of the red for them to enjoy on the balcony. One of the balconies- chateau Guillard had many.

The night air was comfortable. Amélie had on a pair of her designer athletic leggings to practice dance at home and a tight camisole. She stepped out of her slippers at the sliding glass doors of the balcony before taking a seat in one of the lounge chairs. Angela ran hot often, she had put on her tennis team shorts from freshman year and a yellow t-shirt as soon as she stepped in Amélie’s door earlier that evening. Despite it being late and breezy outside, she still felt like she could lose a layer.

Amélie used a corkscrew to effortlessly open their wine and pour them both a new and heavy helping of the red. She left the bottle between their chairs and lounged back, enjoying the stars and soft sounds of the water around them. It was peaceful, and she drifted to similar thoughts of how peace like this may be few and far between after summer passed. She reveled in the silence she and Angela could share.

It didn’t occur to her that Angela had enjoyed more than her usual fair of wine, as her friend drank like it was a shot rather than something to sip. Angela had temptations to bury, though maybe alcohol wasn’t the best way to curb them. 

“I’m hesitant to speak about Moira because I want to pretend like it never happened,” Angela blurted and Amélie blinked to keep up with her thought process. “It wasn’t fair to her, I don’t have any feelings for her. I just. . . wanted to clear my head, and it happened.”

“I doubt she has feelings for you, Angela.”

“That makes me feel very valuable, thank you, Amélie.”

“What I mean is. . . she is twenty-six, and you are eighteen. You must have a lot of stress to be a medical student far ahead of your peers, she was there, you were alone. . .”

“Alright, alright,” Angela sighed, rubbing one of her temples as the memories came flooding back to her again. “But it’s affecting my work, I cannot visit the lab during the same hours that I used to. I know she will be there in place of the professor, I always used the lab during the teacher assistant hours- they tend to hover less.”

“From what I understood about it, she hovered quite a lot,” Amélie smirked into her wine glass and side glanced to Angela.

“What if she tells someone? She is older, well on her way to something great and in a field adjacent to mine! I could get a reputation in the medical program, or worse, it could affect my ability to get a job in the future-”

“Doctors and nurses sleep together constantly, this is the same thing, but with a student and a teacher’s assistant?” Amélie attempted to stifle a laugh as she said it, knowing Angela would hardly accept her reasoning. She didn’t, Angela gave her an ugly look and sat her wine glass down roughly to the concrete of the balcony floor. 

“You have to take charge of your situation, Angela. You have a test in one week, which you cannot afford to fail because you are better than that. You will go to the lab during Moira’s hours on Monday and tell her what happened between you two was a mistake, and that you are there to work.”

“And if she threatens to blackmail me, or something worse?”

“Tell her you have feelings for someone, even if you don’t- she has to have sympathy for the fact that you made a mistake,” She waved her hand in dismissal of the entire thing. Amélie had not made nearly quite a grave slip up as Angela had, but she spent a half hour or two in backstage dressing rooms to makeout with rival dancers before. In competitions, few could truly test Amélie in the high school level.  
Kissing her enemies spiced the playing field a bit. For Angela, it didn’t work out quite the same. 

“I vowed to focus on getting the best scores, even if my applications are sent out already. If I even seem like I’m slacking in the last few weeks of school, it will reflect very negatively on me,” Angela felt herself spiral a little and just let out a short sigh. Her best friend was right, this was nothing. She couldn’t be the only person in the world to sleep with someone spontaneously in the science lab office on a Wednesday night and accidentally break a paperweight by pushing it off the desk in the dark during a fumble of hands and mouths, right?

That wasn’t all that bothered Angela about it. She hated that this happened, and hated even more that she confided in Amélie about it. Part of her wanted to share that sort of moment with her. Their separation was upon them, and the tension was high and always had been between them. She could hardly stand the fact that her virginity was lost to Moira O’Deorain- a pushy, tall, lanky, conniving, teacher’s assistant who was one step away from breaking into a dangerous level of intelligence. It should have been her best friend.

It made sense, though. . . Amélie was a person of similar sort. She was tall, very intimidating, biting with her wit, smart, but she had a lot to gain over Moira, too. Amélie had leagues of grace and litheness, with her long hair and mouth that pinched into a pout whenever she made the tiniest of mistakes during a dance practice. Did Amélie see her in any of the same capacity, or did their flirtations exist merely in her head?

“You know what this means, now . . . You have to be a complete whore to make Moira be forgotten,” Amélie finaly let her laughter spill over and Angela took the wine bottle from her in a huff. 

If Amélie turned her down before the summer was over, in a way she might just be right. Angela would have to put herself under several others to get that heartache out of her mind.


	3. morningdisgracer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, so sorry for the lack of revising on this chapter. i was hit with the need to put it out there all of a sudden, many months late. thanks for sticking around and reading!

Saturday morning came with a wine headache on Angela’s end. She had slept alongside Amélie in her bed with room for two more. Angela spent the morning making coffee and enjoying it out on the balcony by herself. Amélie almost always stayed in bed until at least eleven in the morning on the weekends if she didn’t have a performance to attend. 

The morning air felt different than the night before. Wine drunk and a little flirty, Angela knew she might have made an ass of herself. If she did, Amélie said nothing of it. They went to bed without incident. After all, they had shared a bed on many weekends. The increased tension made no difference this time. Angela almost felt disappointed.

Her phone jerked her from thought with a loud ding that she nearly dropped her coffee. She assumed it was probably Amélie from inside the house asking where she ran off to-

UNKNOWN NUMBER: (PHOTO)

Angela blinked at the preview, unlocking her phone and opening the message. It was a picture of a canary yellow camisole with lace trim thrown across a messy desk. She squinted harder before realizing- it was her camisole. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Are you missing something?

It was obvious, but still, Angela felt heat rush to her face. How did Moira get her phone number? She certainly couldn’t recall giving it to her, unless along with hooking up with her she also had a mild stroke. To add to the trauma of this, why was that mawkish excuse of a teacher’s assistant-pretend scientist taunting her like this?

She locked her phone angrily and placed it in the pocket of the robe borrowed from Amélie’s closet bathroom. Angela wore it often while she visited, and somehow it still managed to smell like her best friend. Clutching the softness of it around her closer, she felt like she needed to cover herself- as if she were being watched. 

“Good morning.”

Angela startled once more as she turned and met Amélie’s eyes, soft in the morning rather than so calculated and piercing like they could sometimes be. She laughed at Angela when she jumped and sidled up beside her. 

“Did I scare you?” Her smooth voice was a purr too close to the blonde’s ear this early in the morning.

“No-” Angela shook her head and tried to repress her blush from Moira’s message and her surprise of her best friend’s sneak attack. “Well, perhaps.” She laughed. 

"It is not like you to be so jumpy.” She smirked and sat down in one of the lounge chairs with ease- that calculating presence had returned all too quickly. 

“There’s coffee.” Angela piped in before Amélie could point out anymore of her embarrassing shortcomings. 

The dancer hummed softly with a nod and looked out over the water, it glistened in the morning sunlight. She seemed content and completely unharmed by the previous night’s wine indulgence. 

Another notification ping rang out from Angela’s bathrobe pocket and Amélie tipped her head slightly. 

“Early for a conversation that is not me, no?”

“It’s nothing. There’s a chat for a group project in one of my physiology classes.” The lie slipped from her tongue easier than she meant for it to, this time. 

Amélie’s eyes could see right through her friend, but she spoke nothing of it. A moment’s silence ticked between them before she rose from the chair, her longer pale lilac robe dragging the balcony floor.  
  
“We should get ready and go out for something sweet for breakfast.” Her voice left no option for a change of plan and Angela could only nod. 

“As soon as I finish my coffee.” She laughed softly and Amélie lingered in the doorway before she walked through and went towards her master bathroom.

A heavy sigh passed through Angela’s lips, listening as the other’s footsteps receded. Her hand found her phone once more to read the awaiting message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: What does a straight laced self-proclaimed medical student prodigy do on a Saturday morning? 

She glared at her phone, as if it could translate the emotion to Moira that way. Swallowing her last dregs of coffee, she placed the mug on the balcony railing and began typing furiously. 

ANGELA: I never said I was a prodigy, you did. And I do plenty! 

A response came all too soon, she could practically see Moira sitting smugly at her desk and working away without even breaking a sweat. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER: When I said it, it was a taunt. 

She refused to entertain this, although a warmth spread across her lower stomach before she stomped back inside and shut the balcony door harder than intended. In the distance, she could hear the shower running and once approached- she noticed the door was cracked. Through it she could see Amélie, not yet inside the shower. 

Her long dark hair flowed against her back and in the reflection of the mirror, Angela noticed she wore only her underwear. They weren’t even over the top and detailed as most might imagine a rich girl having- they were black. Cotton, cut simply in bikini style, comfortable. As she analyzed for a moment just why Amélie did bother with underwear- dancers wore such tight clothing- their eyes met in the mirror. 

A different emotion was displayed on Amélie’s face. Not shock or disgust, but something darker- half inviting and another half challenging. Pink spread over Angela’s face before she walked past the bathroom and ended the moment. Her heart pounding. What did it matter? They had seen each other change clothes, gone swimming- she had watched Amélie change clothes before and after dance practices and recitals. But that look, that’s what was different. That’s what brought that warmth further into Angela’s stomach and brought a tingle to her hands. It was almost as if her best friend was asking with her eyes to be tempted enough to join her- or stare a second longer, even.

She could not entertain it. They were best friends, perhaps in their last summer together. It couldn’t be ruined by a lack of self control or misreading on Angela’s part. Moira had been enough of a mistake, a big one at that. Her status as an assistant, already college educated and networked far better than Angela herself put everything at risk. Moira held the key to making her life hell, if she wanted. Through all of that- she needed Amélie as her rock and nothing else.

The bathroom door clicked shut. Angela took in a breath as long as the sigh she’d expressed just moments before. Was it all imagined? 

Grabbing her overnight bag, she jerked it up from the floor and went down the hall to one of the guest suits to use the bathroom there for her shower. She tossed her phone onto the perfectly made guest bed to ignore for the following time of getting ready to have a hopefully calm breakfast with Amélie in the city.


End file.
